


Swim In Delusion

by RunawayDeviant



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Angst, Construct Your Own Family Situation, Dubious Science, F/M, Human-Raptor Hybrid AU, I'll add more tags as I think of them, Minor Character Death, Rollercoaster of Emotions, Species Dysphoria, i've been putting off posting this for TWO YEARS, kind of but not actually, yeah you heard me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDeviant/pseuds/RunawayDeviant
Summary: "When he is eleven months old, he is given clothes to dress in and a lie about a history in the Navy and subsequent training as an animal behaviourist."Owen Grady's past is a well kept secret, but all secrets come out eventually. With an island for a cage and madmen for keepers, between raptors, Humans, and new monsters looming, it's inevitable. And if he's being honest, he can't wait for it all to come crashing down around his stupid, Human ears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. If someone comes up with a better summary, please tell me, because I can't think of anything better and it hurts.
> 
> 2\. This is a story that has been stewing in my files since about two months after Jurassic World came out. The time has come to post it, and I'm frankly terrified.
> 
> 3\. Hold onto your butts, because I'm not kidding about the emotional rollercoaster tag.

He remembers every moment of his life. They're not sure if it's because of something written into his genetic code, some unexpected little string of nucleotides, or if it's just because he's just young enough to remember it all. Maybe, They say, if he lives to be as old as They all do, he'll start to forget things. He has doubts.

His name, They tell him, is Owen. He will grow as big as Them within seven months, and if They have gotten it right, his aging will slow and he and his brother will live long, healthy lives. Like Them.

 _They_ are only three people. Wu. Hoskins. Farrow. No one else knows about Owen and Sam, where they came from, how they were born - no one is to know. Bad Things will happen if Other people find out; they will be taken away and Bad Things will happen to them, so when they are let out to explore their island home they say nothing. They don't talk to strangers.

Owen watches, expressionless, as they bring in another set of tubes to draw blood.

They call him the reptile brother, before they realise that he can hear them through the walls. To Them, Sam is the Human twin. He is more like Them, open in his expressions and emotions, quick to act on fleeting thoughts but without much in the way of instinct. Owen is both what They wanted and feared – their perfect little specimen with skin like Theirs and all the instinct of something else.

Sam isn't afraid of him, but he fears for Them.

When they are a month old, have learned how to walk and talk and read, Wu shows them the Internet.

"This is where I expect you will do most of your learning from now on," he tells them, and gives them a list of letters and numbers that lead to sites to train their minds. Sam takes to their laptops like a fish to water, but Owen _hates_ them. He uses them, because the threat of Bad Things is ever-present, but he limits himself to Wu's exercises. Basic world history, a detailed overview of the United States of America, and a very in-depth knowledge of a town in Minnesota, which is where they must tell Others that they are from, if they are asked. Their lessons have a heavy focus on biology and behaviour, and while to Sam all these things are fascinating and wondrous, to Owen they are tools, weapons.

When they are three months old, they are set free on the park for an entire day, without Farrow escorting them.

Sam turns to him, eyes wide and expression excited, and says, "Rexy?"

"Rexy," Owen agrees, mimicking the expression. He has been doing so for some time now – it puts Them at ease to see it. Sam has told him that he does not care if Owen refuses to mimic Human behaviour, and Owen appreciates that. But the expressions only come with practise, and he will need them later. Owen only uses them with Sam, never directed towards Them. He likes it when They are ill at ease, cares not for Their comfort.

They head straight to the T-rex enclosure, the huge carnivore ghosting through the trees, almost out of sight. Owen sees her better than Sam, even with his vision hampered by the contacts that hide his eyes.

"She's there, she knows it's almost feeding time," Owen says, pointing her out to Sam, who laughs and plasters himself against the glass. A host of Other people surge forward, trying to catch a glimpse, and Owen is pushed away from his spot beside his brother. A low, crackling growl rumbles through him, and the Others closest to him stiffen and look about, instinctively searching for the threat. Sam shoves through the crowd and grasps his arms, pulling him away from the Others. His eyes aren't as good as Owen's, but his ears are on par.

"Let's go see the Mosasaur," Sam says, glaring at the Others still mindlessly milling and pointing cameras into the enclosure, "Wu said that she has viewing seats, we won't have to deal with Others pushing us around."

"Okay," Owen says, taking point and beginning to use his shoulders and elbows to make his way through the crowd. If the Others have such little regard for space, his will have to show a similar thoughtlessness to fit in, later. Sam recoils from the contact – touch is for those who are close to him – but follows Owen's lead. They will both need to get used to it; it is how Humans are. Owen's skin crawls at every slimy, sweaty, meat-covered creature he bumps into, but he moves onward – he does not have the claws or teeth or size to deter them.

Their visit to the Mosasaur is followed by lunch and then a stop at the petting zoo. The baby dinosaurs, while skittish, recognise a sated predator when they see one, and do not run. Owen still decides to remain outside the pen while Sam has his fun – they eye him warily all the while, and he stares back. They wander over to the Metriacanthosaurus enclosure to watch her for a short time, before rounding out the day with a tour of the herbivore valley in one of the new gyrospheres.

"Did you enjoy your day out?" Farrow asks when they return, a new biology textbook for each of them in hand.

They take their books and Sam launches into an enthusiastic retelling of their adventures. Owen examines his new book and goes to settle down on his bed, content for now. He can't help the laugh that escapes him when Sam begins expounding on how amazing and huge the Metriacanthosaurus is; when they are full grown, they will easily be able to look her straight in the eye.

* * *

 

When they are four months old, Farrow gives them new devices – iPads, she calls them – with instructions to use a specific program, and abruptly leaves, almost skittish. Owen realises why when he opens the app. He snorts and puts the tablet aside – he knows how to produce offspring in much the same way that he knows how hard he needs to bite down on a throat to crush a trachea. Sam, though, has always been more ruled by cognition and less by instinct. He reads the text with increasing alarm until Owen rips it out of his hands and throws it against the wall. The screen shatters.

"They probably won't let us have babies, even if we're able to produce them," he snarls, and Sam hisses back, though he makes no move to stand up to him.

"Then why show us the information?"

"Who knows?" Owen asks, "Maybe because They like to see us hurting. Question everything besides Human Nature, Sam – it's not something we'll ever understand."

Sam rumbles an agreement, but they both know better. Sam is the Human twin, Owen is the reptile. Sam is by birth what Owen has become through Emsleyan mimicry – his camouflage is his smile, his real teeth carefully concealed behind laughing words and friendly tones.

He will not bite unless he is forced to, but that does not mean he cannot bite at all.

* * *

 

Hoskins teaches them the ins and outs of the park, passing them off as nephews when Others ask. He shows them behind the scenes, the world that they will live in one day as "employees".

"So are all the employees like us?" Sam asks, eying the passing Baryonyx keeper with new wariness. Owen shakes his head – every one of them smell as Human and Other as the next.

"No, of course not," Hoskins snorts, "The only people like you are literally the two of you. No one like you has ever existed before."

"Will there ever be others?" Owen asks, because the idea of many brothers and sisters appeals to him – he is, after all, a pack animal.

Hoskins shrugs, "Maybe. Whether Wu and Farrow make more is probably dependant on how well you do."

"What are we meant to do?" Sam asks.

"Just exist, right now. We just want to see how you go."

Owen knows a lie when he hears one. Sam turns to him as he makes a noise below Human hearing, but doesn't otherwise react. Sam is learning to be Human better than Owen, so he is no longer as open about his emotions as he once was. Sam is learning to be Human in deep, permanent ways that he can't bring himself to mimic.

* * *

 

Wu speaks to the two of them the least out of Them, but he is always nearby. They live their lives in a room adjacent to his private lab, only coming in and out when no other scientists are in the building. As they grow, he spends less and less time in their company, and more on a new project.

"New raptors," he informs them when they ask, "Hopefully with less of an aggressive streak."

"What if you can't make them without it?" Sam asks, examining the holographic DNA strand hovering before them.

"I'll keep trying until I can," he shrugs, "If humans thousands of years ago could selectively breed aggression out of dogs, there is no reason why I shouldn't be able to do the same today with raptors. And I have a much better understanding of what makes an animal aggressive or timid."

Owen thinks he's fighting a losing battle, but nods along with Sam. He supposes that Wu is only aiming for a lower aggression index, not actual tameness, and he has certainly spliced more complicated gene sequences together previously.

He still doubts he will succeed.

* * *

 

They are six months old when Sam is killed.

He makes a break for the docks, skilful and stealthy, telling no one. Not even Owen, who is asleep when he leaves. He makes it aboard the early ferry, but the invisible fences catch him less than two hundred and fifty metres from shore. No one had ever told them about those fences, had never bothered to mention that their implants would electrocute them if they tried to leave the island.

'If he had told me his plan,' Owen thinks as he stares, blank, at his brother's corpse lying on a hospital bed, 'we would both have died today.'

His brother had been learning to lie, and Owen had been learning to hide the truth. But Sam had done something that Owen had never done – he had kept something secret from his brother.

"Did you know about this?" Wu heatedly asks him after he has been dragged back to their room, now his.

He cannot muster an expression, refuses to now that Sam is not around to fear for Their lives, "No."

Wu takes this for the truth it is and backs off. Hoskins, when he comes, is more insistent, but eventually gives up trying to make him change his answer. When Farrow comes, it is with sympathy and grace, but she has always been the most unsettled by his unhuman mannerisms. She leaves, her disquiet echoing about the room for a long time after she has left.

Sam is gone, he thinks. Sam had tried to leave, and now he is never coming back. Sam is gone. Sam had kept his plan a secret from Owen. Sam had been Humanly selfish and gotten himself killed for it. Sam had become like Them and, in the end, had become almost Other. Sam is _gone_.

* * *

 

He tries to hide his unbalance from Them, but they see it almost immediately.

Owen hisses and spits in his mind, furious that his brother has left him to this. Owen has always known that family and companionship come first, but Sam had let himself become Human and selfish.

Owen had once read that Humans all died alone. He hopes Sam is regretting his decision, now that he has died alone and left _him_ alone.

He stops putting on his Human expressions, his grief overriding any conditioning he has put himself through. He stares at Them when they enter the room, says nothing, watches with orange eyes that he no longer covers. He makes them uncomfortable.

He makes them _squirm_.

He is a predator in their midst, and without the lying, traitor, _Human_ twin, his camouflage washes away. It is a predator without a cage that wanders throughout the park in the night, clicking and crowing and speaking with the other carnivores. It is the same predator that shrieks threats at the herbivores to unsettle them as petty revenge against the keepers that are Other, that will never know what it is to lose what he has lost.

He is angry, and he is bitter, and when he is neither he stares at the walls of his room or the ceiling or he sleeps.

Underneath it all, he is pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, but I'm posting an interlude right after to make up for it.
> 
> Also, I've never had a beta before but this story is going to be long enough that I feel like I'll need one. If you're interested, feel free to hit me up. My Tumblr is [to-boldly-snow](http://to-boldly-snow.tumblr.com/). :)

When he is eleven months old, he is given clothes to dress in and a lie about a history in the Navy and subsequent training as an animal behaviourist. He rehearses the lies, old and new, for a week, before he is sent to meet an Other woman.

She is Claire Dearing, and she is the Senior Assets Manager of Jurassic World. He, apparently, is applying for a job as head keeper for a new animal that has not even been hatched.

Although his Human persona is not entirely up to scratch – his face falls habitually into a glare and he is prone to tilting his head like a bird's when he is curious or thoughtful – she takes it in her stride. So far as she is aware, he is a Human who spent most of his adult life waging war. Strange behaviour is almost expected.

It is a good cover. He hates that They know so well how to make him appear harmless.

If she knew what was sitting across from her, she would be running, instead of smiling and laughing and being far more eye-catching than an Other had any right to be.

He does his best to be winning, to smile back and act like a nice, normal man. It is alarmingly easy, with her, and he wants to scream his protest and tear her stupid folder in half.

Instead, he listens attentively. When she tells him that he will be working with Velociraptors, he merely nods, apparently unfazed. The details of the carnivore exhibit the potential applicants will be keeping are only revealed during the first face-to-face interview – it is always the case with the establishment of a new species on the island. They weed out the weaker candidates by watching their reactions when they are informed of what they will be working with.

"Dr Wu has assured me that all attempts have been made to tone down their natural aggressive tendencies," she informs him once they come to whether he would like to accept the position, "However, if they still _are_ aggressive…"

"I'm not too worried about it," Owen shrugs, smiling with as much charm as he can muster, "If they do turn out nasty, it's not something I haven't worked with before. And really, even the most dangerous animals can be taught – you ask your T-rex to come out and eat a goat every two hours, right? The risk is worth the reward, especially since a fat T-rex is much less exciting for tourists than getting the chance to see a pack of raptors running around, even if I can't get them jumping hoops."

She raises an eyebrow, almost amused; "Your attitude is very impressive, Mr Grady. Most applicants shy away the second the word "Velociraptor" leaves my mouth."

"I live to please," he smiles his charming smile again, and she nods, shuffling her notes and his entirely fabricated CV into a sleeve in the sleek folder that sits, precisely parallel, between her phone and her keyboard.

"I'll contact you within a week, Mr Grady. You're on the shortlist."

"Thank you very much, Ms Dearing. I look forward to hearing from you."

She chuckles, and looks up at him from beneath her lashes, "I'm sure you _will_ be hearing from me. Enjoy the rest of your stay on the island – feel free to look around."

He walks out feeling confident that he will get the job – not that Wu will allow anyone else to take his new specially-made raptor eggs – and a little confused. The only other female he has ever interacted with has been Farrow, and _she_ has never spoken to him like _that_.

'Humans,' he thinks, 'None of them make any sense.'

* * *

 

Another interview and a sterling recommendation from Wu later and Owen has the job.

He is now Owen Grady, soon to be raptor keeper. The eggs are only a month from hatching – two small, white ovoids of wonder that he visits daily. The scientists that staff the lab laughingly refer to him as "Raptor-Dad", but they appreciate his questions about their work and his inquiries about his eggs.

Their enclosures are already built, and he inspects them with disdain. Their baby enclosure is more of a playpen, and their adult enclosure is… underwhelming.

"It's a shoebox," Barry, his new second in command, mutters, "They always make them small so that we can find them in the enclosure more easily. I imagine it contributes to many of their behavioural problems, being in such a small space."

"Imagine that," Owen says drily, and Barry barks a laugh and slaps his shoulder. Owen makes a face but allows it – he has no choice but to blend in with these people, after all.

When the hatching is imminent, the geneticists and egg-minders bequeath him with a radio so that they can contact him immediately when the time comes. They are fond of him, and while Owen still gets a bitter taste in his mouth thinking of Sam, he cannot bring himself to hate these people for his brother's mistake. He finds himself growing fond of them, too, as the days march on.

His girls come out of the shell perfect. They are both coloured strangely bright for animals that are supposed to be ambush predators – blue racing stripes on one and a noticeable orange tint to the other. Then again, they also lack feathers – they are not what their ancestors would have been.

He calls, subsonic noises overlayed by the words he says in English. It has taken almost his entire life to perfect utilising his larynx and syrinx simultaneously, and he uses the skill to talk to his tiny new packmates. He would give his left arm for a proper resonating chamber, but it is yet another thing They denied him when he was created. He does the best he can, and the hatchlings respond instinctually.

The firstborn he names Blue, because he had neglected to think of a name at all. He has never named anything before, did not think it was something he would ever need to do. The second, three hours later, becomes Echo, because when he chirps and chitters to her, she copies him in lieu of just responding.

The staff they assign him to help care for them are, for the most part, reliable and experienced. Some, like Barry, are veterans of raptor packs past, whilst others are being shifted over from other carnivore enclosures. One intrepid snow leopard keeper – Oliver Small – has come all the way from Australia to be part of the new raptor project. They gel well, and are set to grow in numbers.

"You'll have more staff assigned as the raptors grow and their needs with them," Claire explains after a short carnivore keeper meeting one evening, "Asides from Rexy, who was fully-grown when Jurassic World was established, it's the way it's been done for all of our animals."

"Good way to gauge how many people you'll end up needing. Smart."

"Thank you. I thought of it while I interned here – part of why I got the job when it came up."

As the girls grow larger and are moved from their small, initial enclosure to their more permanent home, their aggression begins to show. Never to Owen, though – Owen is older, is strong, is Alpha. Owen is impressive and tall and protects them from strange Humans. Owen keeps them in line.

They grow fast, though, and their fights grow in scale with them. Almost without warning Echo attacks Blue, attempting to usurp her position as Beta. Blue puts her in her place, and Owen sets Echo's jaw as best he can, but no vet will come near her to treat it, and they will not sedate her because she is not full-grown, and so it is left offset slightly.

The two of them refuse to present themselves to the fence for check-ups after that, and Owen refuses to make them.

Four months after their hatching, Delta and Charlie join the pack. Both green, though Charlie is notably brighter – with _tiger stripes_ of all things – and Delta's hide is tinted with iridescent blue. Owen very quickly has reason to believe that Wu has changed his formula; they _are_ less aggressive, but only Owen knows that it is because of Wu's success. He tells everyone else that it is simply pack hierarchy, and that they will always be the younger ones, the lower ranks.

For now, Wu informs Owen via email, his pack is complete. Hoskins' emailed sentiment that he hopes the new pack makes him feel better after his "personal loss" nearly makes him hurl the computer monitor out of his office window.

* * *

 

He buys a beat-up old caravan from the mainland and ships it over as soon as he can afford it – he wants a nest, and a place to appropriately store his personal items that is not the blank-slate staff cabin they are all assigned on accepting a position on the island. An impersonal raptor pen will not cut it either, not that he would be allowed to set up there in any case. He plants the caravan by the river on the east side of the island, high up in the restricted section but still within hearing of his girls. He fills it with little trinkets and the few personal items he has accumulated over his short life and even shorter employment. In pride of place on a shelf above his bed (read: his mess of blankets and pillows) are four labelled jars – they are the things that his girls have brought him. Interesting rocks, bark, and even a few small animal bones. The number of gifts taper off as they grow to maturity, but the memories remain, kept in the jars.

At eight months, his girls reach their full growth. Less than a month after his own second birthday, he is the Father/Alpha to four fully-grown raptors. Despite his strange, Human-shaped body, they know that he is like _them_ , and not like the Others. He smells like them, can speak like them, understands them. He teaches and cares for them, and takes them to hunt and kill off weak members of the Gallimimus and Edmontosaurus herds.

(He tells their keepers that he is stunning the animals and using a captive bolt, as regulation dictates, and he always books out the appropriate equipment the night of their hunts, and fires each one once to be sure. In reality, the sick or injured animal is separated by Owen, herded into the restricted area and chased down by his girls.

The Humans would protest, but it is the herbivores or them.

He knows what the Humans would choose.)

As time goes on he builds himself a ramshackle "bungalow" using a combination of driftwood, fallen trees and anything the resort has lying around that he can take. Those who come by are impressed that he has the time, but he has little else to do during his spare daylight hours. He uses it to collect more and more trinkets, bought from the resort or online, but he does not really live there. He spends most nights with his pack, sleeping in his nest only when he thinks someone will notice his absence.

Most days he is out in the enclosure, training staff and raptors alike to respond to each other in ways that two such species were never designed to in nature. They were never meant to meet in the first place.

The raptors tolerate the Humans well enough (they refrain from trying to kill anyone), but the Humans inevitably get cocky. One daredevil nearly loses a hand, and Owen has to sit down with many of them and explain in vivid detail what happened to everyone else who ever crossed a raptor. He refrains from lecturing the experienced staff – their late former employers are the stars of the cautionary tales.

When he is not with his girls or his staff or in his bungalow, he is in Jurassic World's main resort. The crush of people is still aggravating, the noise jarring, but he likes trying all the food and wandering into staff only areas to find out just what so many white-collar types are doing on an island inhabited predominately by dinosaurs. Finances, it turns out. He rarely visits floor four of the command centre after a two-hour conversation about how much extra vegetation all their herbivores need shipped in per week / month / year to keep them from literally eating everything on the island.

Floor five, however is always worth a visit, because Claire is there. Her office overlooks the forest to the west and, in the afternoons, she shines right along with the sun that sends beams through her window. Claire is a professional in every sense of the word, but they are friendly. Owen grudgingly admits that he enjoys her presence enough to actively seek her out, and he pulls her out of her office to eat occasionally.

Despite himself and his disdain for the general Human populace, he grows close to the other keepers and especially his own staff. He is known through the park as their local madman, but they smile when he enters a room and they invite him to events and willingly spend time with him. He finds himself blending more easily with Others as time passes, and admits that it is not the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

Soon enough, his co-workers are not Other at all – just people. And while he is not like them, they are not as bad as he once tried to believe.

Farrow smiles in his regular sessions with her, and says that it is good that he is adjusting. He wants to pull back then, to separate himself again from the Others and their strange behaviour and nonsensical ways, but he knows he cannot. He wants to have it all, and at the same time he wants to burn it all to the ground.

He chooses to try to hold onto everything he has gained since leaving the lab – his girls, his keepers, his acquaintances. The feeling that it will all go away one day lingers, but he ignores it – doubt is a Human folly he has no use for.

He buys a motorcycle after seeing the Microceratus keeper puttering around on a moped, and falls off it only twice in his attempts to learn how to ride it. He keeps up with his pack from then on, and hunts are faster, more exciting. Owen and his girls are a unit, and they are wild and as free as they can be, confined to the northern sector of such a small island.


	3. Interlude: Charlie's Bears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****This interlude was posted at the same time as Chapter 2, so please make sure you didn't skip that!****
> 
> Interlude time!
> 
> Warning: This interlude is a totally different tone from the rest of the story and is written in past tense. It's more in line with my usual writing style, and is thus more light-hearted. I can't help myself, I love a happy raptor-chapter.

Interlude

_Charlie's Bears_

 

Owen didn't actually see anyone give Charlie a bear for months after she started receiving them.

The story went that, as Owen was in the office, doing paperwork, one of the interns thought it would be funny to toss in a stuffed animal to watch the raptors tear it apart.

The first ever bear, a bright pink fluffy thing with a heart sewed into its chest, landed on the floor with a sad thud. Blue was on it immediately, inspecting and assessing, her sisters following.

It wasn't food, it wasn’t a threat, and so three sisters left it be, uninterested.

The fourth sister picked up the bear, and chirruped happily at the way it felt. She carefully picked off the leaf litter that was clinging to its fur and proceeded to hug it to her chest. When Owen emerged later that morning, it was to a group of interns furiously scribbling behavioural notes while Charlie groomed and clung to her new friend with great protectiveness.

Every two weeks or so, a new bear would be given to her by increasingly amused raptor staff. Sometime around week nine, the other keepers caught wind of the new craze and, while Owen was working on his bike at his bungalow, a procession of keepers from all around the park bestowed upon Charlie a total of twelve new bears.

The first time he actually witnessed the gift-giving, he nearly fell off the overwalk laughing.

"I, Peter, of the Great Raptor Care Clan, bestow upon the Lady Charlie this bear as a sign of my great respect and devotion to her and her sisters," Peter said, standing in the centre of the crosswalk and holding the bear above his head like Simba from the Lion King, "It is named "Holly Molly", for its red colour, symbolising the love I hold in my heart for the Great Raptor Ladies and their almighty father, who pays our wages. Praise be to Raptor-Dad."

He walked to the railing and held his arms out straight. Charlie stood directly below the bear and he released it. It fell with great accuracy directly into her mouth, and she quickly pulled it out and began to inspect it. After a few moments, she chirruped her approval and disappeared into the brush.

"Praise be!" the other raptor staff in attendance yelled, stomping twice on the grate.

"People think _I'm_ the crazy one?" Owen asked, and Peter turned around, rapidly colouring with embarrassment.

"Ah, bossman- We were just-"

"I don't even want to know," Owen grinned, "Just- keep on keepin' on, and I'm sure everything will be fine. Also, why have I never been invited to these things before? That was amazing."

From then on, the offering ceremonies began to occur with Owen in attendance. Around six months after the first keeper procession, a second was held. This one had an even greater number of keepers and bears, all wearing hastily cobbled-together raptor-head broaches, made of bark or, occasionally, beheaded figurines likely stolen from one of the merchandise booths.

Charlie's collection grew so large so fast that the raptor staff were forced to make some modifications to the stables. Rows of shelves were installed, mostly along one wall, to allow the bears to be stored neatly off the floor. Only her favourites continued to inhabit the ground, the very first pink bear among them.

Blue allowed the change and the bears, indulging her sister's love of the small fluffy things.

Echo's love of squeaky toys, however, was not something so easily tolerated.

"She likes music, just not the annoying noises the toys make," Owen explained to Barry as Blue ripped apart yet another toy without mercy, Echo standing back and watching sadly as it was destroyed.

"Picky dinosaurs," Barry snorted, turning away, "Next time get her one that sings holiday tunes or something," he instructed the distraught staff whose offering was being eviscerated.

They nodded sadly, and dispersed to get back to their tasks.

"This island is staffed by maniacs," Owen sighed.

"They walk among us," Barry said, wriggling his fingers in the universally accepted symbol for "spooky".

"You mean they work around us," Owen muttered, shaking his head and making his way downstairs to enter the pen for some quality bonding time with his girls.

"You know, most people think you're crazy because you go in with them, yes?" Barry called as Owen buzzed himself in.

"Well, they're not wrong," Owen grinned, shrugging up at the man as Blue came over to welcome him.


	4. Chapter 4

Claire has a way of catching his eye. Her symmetry, her pale skin, her white clothes, the startling colour of her hair. Something makes him want to curl around her and hum when she is nearby. It takes him far too long to figure out that he is attracted to her.

He is both relieved and horrified; relieved because that is one awkward conversation about being attracted to the wrong species that he never need have with anyone, and horrified because it is the last thing he thought he could ever want.

He realises, by watching his co-workers, that her strange behaviour during his very first interview had been some sort of coy flirting behaviour. Strange, for Claire; she is incredibly dedicated to her job, and so professional that it sometimes makes his chest hurt to witness it.

He dithers, and watches her across meeting rooms and takes her to lunch twice in one week. He tells himself that he is trying to talk himself out of doing anything stupid, and then gives up the attempt at lying and admits that he is going to do something stupid.

So, he Googles human courtship, and despairs that he never had the chance to learn these things the normal way - by doing them. The internet is a horrible place to learn about anything.

He wanders into the command centre in mid-July, a rousing pep talk from Blue about taking what you want and killing those who stand in your way echoing in his ears, and is confronted by an angry woman in the foyer.

"What are you up to?" she demands, having towed him into a staff corridor currently devoid of any actual staff, "Why do you keep coming up here and flirting with Claire and taking her out if you're not going to actually make a move? If you're just leading her along, I'll make sure you accidentally get locked in with those raptors of yours one night, I swear."

His confusion turns to annoyance, but he ends up laughing in her face.

"I'm sorry- uh-"

"Vivian," she glares.

"Vivian. Sorry. We've met like, twice, and I'm very bad with names. Vivian, I am the last person who would ever be afraid of spending the night with my pack – they're my family. Secondly," he says loudly, to interrupt her next volley, "I'm going up to ask her out to dinner literally right now."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well it took you long enough. She's liked you for ages."

Owen blinks, startled.

"… You didn't know?"

"I'm very bad at this kind of stuff."

"I can see that," she huffs, "Claire didn't want to presume, so she didn't say anything. You're both bad at this."

"I get it, I'm dumb. Can I go? I only have half an hour."

"Yeah, sure, get to it. Take her to Nobu, she likes it there."

"Thanks?"

"Go!"

He does, and wonders if he should. Clearly, he does not understand enough about Humans to comprehend their nuances – this could end in complete disaster.

He goes anyway.

She is typing when he enters the office, and smiles when she glances away from her monitor.

"Owen!" she says, "Lunch?"

"Raincheck on lunch, I've gotta get back to the enclosure," he says, grinning at her Pavlovian response. Her mouth twists a little – disappointment? – and he clears his throat, "I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner with me instead?"

"Dinner?" she asks, blinking twice in rapid succession, as though the thought had not crossed her mind. "You want to go to dinner?"

"Yeah."

"With me?"

"Uh huh."

"As in, on a date?"

"That's what I was going for. If you don't want to, just say-"

"Of course I want to go," she rolls her eyes, and then smiles brightly, "When, where?"

"I have to book, but I was thinking Nobu."

"You don’t like fish."

"You do, and they make other stuff."

She looks softer, he thinks, like a part of her business persona has melted away, "Sounds like a date. Let me know when?"

"Yeah, I will," he says, and if he sounds a little breathless he will never admit it, "I gotta get back."

"Okay."

He flees, and heads straight to Nobu, grateful that staff get priority for reservations. He texts Claire the details and returns to the raptor pen in high spirits, for once. His keepers spend the rest of the day annoyed at him, as his announcement of a successful mission has the girls excitable and loud and unwilling to cooperate with demands. Barry takes the time to congratulate him and wish him luck. Blue preens, doing her best to take the credit for his achievement.

Dinner is an unmitigated disaster.

She does not like his clothing choice, the result of his limited wardrobe translating into his rather casual attire. He thinks she is too controlling, her stiff professionalism coming out too strongly during what should be a fun occasion – she makes a schedule, to his bafflement.

Owen admits that he was stupid to have thought that he could have her, and turns his focus back to his work and his pack. He knows better than to wish for things that cannot be, and he avoids the resort to prevent any awkward encounters. Claire is unlikely to cause a scene in public, but he had seen the look in Vivian's eyes while she scolded him that first time – she is not one to cross.

It is Blue who demands that he go and get her anyway, which leaves Owen off-balance. Once a raptor female says no, a raptor male makes himself scarce – she is liable to bite if he lingers.

_Alpha_ , she insists, as though that gives him the right to have everything he wants without exception, _Mate. Nest. Eggs._

He can only look on helplessly as the other three take up the thread and begin to sing and shout their desire for nests, and for the Alpha to have eggs that they can care for and raise into good hunters.

"Everything okay, Owen?" Barry calls from the overwalk, watching the chorus warily.

Delta begins to walk in circles around Owen and he shakes his head; "They're just being themselves," he answers, "It's not a threat display – I hope the cameras are on though."

"Rolling, boss!" calls his latest intern – Max – who is manning the equipment. The recording is a necessary part of his cover – he is here to research, as well as train, these raptors, after all.

"If you are sure," Barry says.

"I'm sure," Owen answers.

Owen texts Claire that evening, asking if she would like to try again.

**:I know I fucked up last time, but would you be interested in going to Sunrio on Saturday?:**

It takes an hour and a half for her to respond, the entirety of which he spends pacing in front of his bungalow.

**:For dinner?:**

**:Yeah. Or Nobu, or wherever.:**

**:You really want to try again after that mess?:**

**:I really want to.:**

There is a ten-minute pause, during which he considers drowning himself in the river. Only the thought of his girls being left alone in the world without him keeps him from taking the leap.

**:I made the reservation. 6pm. Dress nicely, don't be late.:**

**:No schedules.:**

**:No promises.:**

He groans, and heads inside to boot up his rarely used personal computer. He needs to order a shirt and a new, undamaged pair of jeans. And have them shipped over by Friday. Requisitions is going to laugh in his face.

* * *

Allyson, the woman who mans Requisitions' email, does in fact laugh in his face. And then she orders his clothes.

"Anything for love," she tells him over the phone, having called to confirm the reason for his expedited shipping. "I'll make sure they're on the Thursday shipment."

"Thanks, Allyson," he says, "You're the greatest."

"I know. Bye, Grady."

His order is delivered to his bungalow during the day, and he frets over the fact that he cannot use an iron for all of three seconds before shoving the shirt in his bag and driving over to Barry's house in the village.

"You never thought to buy an iron?" Barry asks laughingly, pulling out his own, and the board to go with it.

"I didn't think I'd need to iron anything ever again, after getting out of the Navy," he lies. He had just never thought he would need to iron anything at all.

"You haven't ironed anything since you started working here," he says in disbelief.

"Or for about a year before that," Owen confirms.

Barry snatches the shirt from his hands, "Give that here. You will probably burn down my house, if you even figure out how to turn the thing on."

Owen protests but happily lets the man go to work. He resolves to teach himself how to iron, but for now is just pleased that he won't have to worry for his date.

"Do you want a beer?" Barry asks once he has finished, and after he has warned Owen not to drive to fast on the way home, lest the shirt crinkle.

Owen tries not to show his surprise and says, "Sure."

Over the next two hours, he learns more about Barry than he had in two and a half years of working with him. He warns him that if he keeps being so entertaining, he may have to come over more often.

"Good," Barry says, "You spend too much time by yourself out there with your bungalow and your raptors. It is no wonder you have forgotten how to impress a woman."

Owen scoffs and denies it. He leaves the village at a sedate pace and hangs up his shirt with the new jeans. The colours are dark, but the green is vivid enough that he is pleased by it. His natural preference is to dress himself in bright oranges and reds, but he usually refrains. Humans think his colours are gaudy, so he keeps them inside himself, and surrounds himself with them in his trinkets.

Saturday rolls around and he arrives at the restaurant at 5:55, dressed and prompt and ready to be ordered around, no matter how much it grates.

Claire arrives two minutes later, and they are seated together.

"I didn't make an itinerary," she informs him primly, "I decided that if you could compromise, I could too."

"How much pain are you in right now?"

"So much pain," she says, lips twitching into a tiny smile, "I've had a written itinerary for every moment of my life for the last ten years."

" _That_ sounds painful to me."

"Your board shorts pained me."

"They _were_ a bit tight."

She laughs, and they settle into the relaxed conversation that they have always had. It's a decent start to the night.

This time around, the date goes well. After dinner and one of the nightly performances by the jazz band in the auditorium, Owen takes her on a drive to the centre of Gallimimus Valley – empty, the animals all asleep in their stables – and they lie on the roof of the car and he points out constellations. Claire admits that it is one of the few things that she does not know everything about. Owen has learned many of them during spare night hours, with no urge to sleep and nothing else to do. He has picked up several skills in such ways. When they return to the resort, it is late enough that everything is closed, so Claire uses her master code to break into Margaritaville and they make awful cocktails and attempt to trade life stories.

Claire tells him about the sister that she has not seen in forever, too busy dealing with the hectic park to do more than call once a week. About nephews that she barely remembers, and funerals that she could not attend. About life as a slave to her work, even if it is the best job in the world.

Owen tells lies about where he came from only briefly, and manages to lay out a story of him and Sam, of memories before he was bitter. Of learning about dinosaurs and DNA and dreaming about Jurassic Park. About Sam dying.

"What happened to him?" she asks as they sit in a booth, pressed close against each other's sides.

"Boating accident," he half-lies, "Something went really wrong – no one could ever give us a straight answer. He was electrocuted."

The half-truth takes, and she grips his leg; "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," he sighs, bumping his head against hers, "So you don't have to be sorry."

"But I am," she murmurs, "It's just human nature."

When he gets home that night, he lies in his nest and wonders just how warped his view of Human Nature is that he never thought empathy could be one of their traits.

* * *

"So," Barry says as they gather around the front of the raptor enclosure a few days later, "A third date with Ms Dearing, eh?"

They rally here every morning, he and his intrepid raptor handlers, to prepare for the day ahead. These are the only people insane enough to want to work with his girls, and he holds a certain amount of respect for their utter lack of survival instinct – even less fear of death than the average Human.

What he does not appreciate are the chuckles and innuendos that start flying at the words "third date".

He ignores the question and all the following comments in favour of telling them all their tasks for the morning and sending them off. The girls are to be let into the outside enclosure, their stables cleaned and fresh bedding laid down, as well as a few large squeaky toys thrown in (Blue hates them, Echo finds them the most interesting things on Earth). Then Echo, Delta and Charlie are to be ushered back into the stables (by Owen, of course) and he will work on "teaching Blue how to respond to a clicker" (useless, will never work, but Hoskins wants commands that Other people can use, not just the subvocal noises Owen produces). The interns and juniors will spend this time observing the behaviour of the girls inside, while the senior staff check the fences and locks for faults. And that is only the first half of the day – the afternoon will consist of convincing the four raptors to perform the first part of a routine that they have been putting together for months, putting the raptors to bed, cleaning any debris in the outer enclosure, cleaning up any equipment they have used throughout the day, and another check of the fences and electronics. There is a good reason that his staff is so large.

When he returns to his bungalow for a shower, he looks up "third date" and grimaces at the advice that the Internet has to offer him.

He reads a couple of articles on how to make a woman happy in the bedroom, because he knows Humans – and especially Claire – are picky, and then closes the browser and deletes the search from his history.

He slinks into the stables with his pack that night and slumps against Blue, who chirrups a question.

_Humans_ , he snorts back, _They_ _are strange creatures_.

_Tell us something we don't know_ , they reply with various tones of amusement and exasperation.

He is glad that he is no longer alone with such thoughts.

* * *

The night of the third date rolls around, but the mood is strange.

Claire is skittish, Owen is stilted, and it takes too much effort to ask if she is feeling alright.

"Look," she finally huffs, "I know there's this big expectation attached to the third date, but I just don't-"

"Want to?" Owen says, nearly collapsing with relief.

"It's not that I don't find you attractive, I just-"

"Claire," he interrupts, "I have been freaking out about this for a week. I _totally_ _understand_."

"Oh, thank god," she mutters, putting her face in her hands.

He laughs; "This is what happens when we listen to other people too much, and not our own gut feelings."

"You know a lot more about instinct than I do, Owen," she says, peeking between her fingers, "What does your gut say?"

"My gut says that it's ice cream time and that we should hijack the IMAX theatre and eat Ben and Jerry's."

"What movie?"

"Whatever we can find."

Barry looks like he is expecting a story the next day, and Owen rolls his eyes.

"We had dinner, ate Ben and Jerry's and watched _This Means War_."

"Really? That's it?" Barry asks, and a host of groans echoes around them. Echo's mimicking groan shuts them up, and they stare warily at her through the bars.

"You people have a really awful obsession with sex, do you know that?" Owen asks, shaking his head and letting himself into the enclosure. Charlie chirps and hops forward, holding a dead lizard and eager to show him her catch.

"Hey, it is human nature to be curious!" Barry laughs as he ascends to the walkways above, "It is also human nature to want to know when someone is getting some!"

Owen mutters a few choice things about "Human Nature" under his breath and wonders when people will stop throwing that phrase at him. He examines Charlie's lizard, and congratulates her when he finds that it is larger than her last catch. She devours in in one toss of her head.

Owen wonders what special breed of Human Claire must be, to be none of the things these people are.

* * *

Woman, he realises, is the answer to his question. She is a woman, and a unique one at that, which makes her think and act differently to her male counterparts. And her female counterparts. And anyone at all, really. A class of her own.

She is more readily emotional than Owen (as are most people), but separates herself from those emotions for her own safety. She is physically less strong, slighter even than many Other women, but her demeanour and position of power hold all those who question her in line.

_She's the Alpha of the Humans of Jurassic World_ , Owen thinks with no small amount of amusement.

She is not Owen's Alpha, though – Owen _is_ Alpha, so no one can hold such a position over him. But she begins to hold a special place in his mind as Not-Other, perhaps an equal and equivalent. Claire had been born normally, raised normally, had not met Them until she began working on the island, but she is… she is Claire. She earns her own category.

It still surprises him the first time she appears at the raptor enclosure, in her customary white and her heels sharp enough to kill a man.

"You always talk about your girls so fondly," she explains, eying the workers whose attention lingers on her a little too long with disdain, "I wanted to meet them. If it's okay."

"Yeah, it's fine," he replies, grinning, "They've heard a lot about you, too."

"Oh, _really_?" she chuckles.

They have, but Owen does not think it wise to tell her how much. He brings her into the two-doored "airlock" room between the outside and the enclosure, and calls his girls over.

They come willingly, because Claire's is a scent they know without having met her – Owen often comes to them with her perfume on his clothes.

"Girls, this is my lady," he introduces, and Claire giggles. Echo, having never heard a laugh quite like it, mimics it. Claire blinks and gasps softly. Echo gasps back.

"Well, this is going very well," Owen laughs, "Claire, this is Blue, Echo, Delta, and Charlie," he says, pointing to each as he names them, "Girls, this is Claire. Play nice."

Blue examines Claire for a moment, makes a noise of approval and turns go back to her resting spot. Echo amuses herself by giggling again, then copying Owen's staccato chuckle. Delta stands quietly, waiting for whatever is coming next (because there is always something). Charlie, always the baby, tries to push her snout through the bars for a pet.

"Give me your hand," Owen says, and Claire, understanding what he is going to do, lets him put his hand over hers and rest it on Charlie's nose.

"Hey Charlie-girl," she says quietly, instinctively starting to scratch the scales with her manicured nails. Charlie makes a pleased sound and her tail moves back and forth a little. Claire smiles widely; "I never thought I'd say this about an ultra-carnivore, but you're adorable."

Charlie knows that word, because Owen and his staff use it on her a lot, and she makes the tiny peeping chirp that had been their customary means of communication as babies.

Claire is hard-pressed to contain her squeal.

"I'd invite you in, but I don't think you'd enjoy Blue's full-body inspection," he grins, "Barry's the bravest man I know, and he nearly fainted."

"It was my first time in the enclosure and they rounded me up and Blue sniffed every inch of me," Barry confirms from behind them, "That is too many teeth to have near very important areas."

"I think I'll pass on that, then," Claire agrees. She runs her hand up to scratch between Charlie's eyes and finishes with a rub on the nose. Charlie makes a sad noise as the hand is removed. "Sorry Charlie-girl, but the drive up here took longer than I remembered and I need to get back to work."

The girls know a farewell when they hear one, and the three of them offer a chittered goodbye and turn away to find Blue.

"I was expecting that to go many ways, but I didn't think petting would be on the agenda," she said, eyes full of wonder.

"Like I said, they know you. They smell you on me all the time, and I have genuinely said "Claire" to them enough that they've gotten the message."

Her excited expression makes his chest constrict strangely; "I can't believe I'm a known entity to a pack of apex predators."

"I don't know if you've realised this, but if this island was an ecosystem, _you'd_ be the apex predator."

"What about Mr Masrani?"

"You'd eat him, I think."

"I don't know if you're sweet or weird."

"You're still here, aren't you?"

She leans up and brushes a kiss against his lips, "Yes. And I have to get back to work."

"I'll bring you lunch."

"You're the best."

She leaves the airlock and walks back to her car. As she drives away, Owen leans back against the bars. "What do you think?"

Blue, chin resting on the bar beside his head, makes a number of observations about Claire and ultimately approves of her existence. Owen rubs her snout and heads out to the overhead walkways – there is enough time for more "clicker training" before lunch, he thinks.

* * *

Despite his staff's suggestive comments and frequent teasing queries, Owen and Claire do not sleep together. Owen is busy with training and behavioural studies and fairly frequent incident reports, and unless she has overdosed on caffeine, Claire generally wants to go straight to sleep at the end of a long day at work. There are no weekends for live-in theme park management, and subsequently very little time for proper dates, let alone sex.

They do fall into bed together, though. Owen will bid his girls goodnight and sweet dreams and ride over to the staff village, tapping in Claire's code and having a shower before she gets home. She has only caught him bathing once, and had not been shy about looking, but had not made any advances.

Owen waits for her, squeaky clean, watching television or reading the latest research their geneticists have published. When she gets home – white clothes, fiery hair, heels that Owen would literally kill himself in – she kicks off said heels without a care and slumps on the couch beside him. They talk, debrief after always-hectic days in the park, and Claire changes into whatever she will be wearing to bed that night.

They watch the news, talk, and Owen makes Claire eat something, because she will forget otherwise and will not even notice she is hungry until the next morning when she is starving. Then they go to bed together, to sleep.

He has started leaving some of his sparse collection of clothes at the bottom of her wardrobe. She comes to the raptor pen during her lunch breaks (if she remembers to take them) and they eat in the airlock, Owen on the floor and Claire perched on a clean pillow atop a milk crate, while the pack arranges themselves into a raptor-pile against the bars.

People start calling her "Raptor-Mom" when she scolds Delta for nipping at her fingers during a petting session and the raptor lowers her head with a cowed whimper. A "No. 1 Mom" mug mysteriously appears on her desk one morning and she proceeds to use it without comment.


End file.
